I took a totally different route to the dark city than the boys. I braved the spine's foothills and few gentle cliffsides rather than venture anywhere near the main roads or riverway. This was as much blessing as curse in the end; I was nowhere near them when Eragon made his foolish proclamation to the Urgal hunting party. I didn't hear the details until the boys stopped in a lake-side shanty town and Brom gave me the details. For all my efforts backtracking through the woods, I only managed to catch one of the mongrels that Eragon had left on the loose; one got away. The only silver lining was that, according to Galbatorix's next moves, I'd be certain of his involvement.

But on to the main subject on hand; Dras Leona. There were three places Galbatorix told me to be wary of, regardless of my personal power. These were: the wastes north of the spine, the ruins of Vroenguard, and the lair of Tosk's followers. So there I was, alone in the second largest city in the Empire; closer to Uru'baen than I'd been in months. The first night back I laid low in the slums surrounding the great yellowed walls. I was searching for a pickpocket or brute that had some connection to Felice and the others, but I had no luck. The rest of the evening I gambled coppers over dice with some beggars and absorbed the local gossip.

The next day, I entered the city proper. A brief rendevous with Brom in the morning caught both of us up to speed on their task, and also on one more crucial bit of gossip: Galbatorix would be in the city within days. I was somewhat amused and relieved to hear that Eragon learned at least enough self-preservation skills to fear this event… though probably not as much as I did. It would be imperative that I was miles from the city before that happened. My presence would do nothing but hasten doom to the father-son duo; Galbatorix could pick my mind out of millions at a glance.

Little did I know that a more immediate hassle awaited me.

Of the many things I hated about Dras Leona, the layout hardly ranked in the top fifteen, but it was still a hellish maze for the unsuspecting fugitive. I knew too that most of the city was integrated into Tosk's great web. I scrutinized every building for illusions and every passerby for hidden weapons. I was so focused that I paid no special attention to the ramshackle, dusty architecture that lined every crawling avenue.

In a narrow alley connecting two larger streets, all my attentiveness paid off.

A less cautious person would have walked right into their trap. Indeed, I almost convinced myself that it was simple paranoia when I first stopped. Nothing was tangibly wrong, but I couldn't shake the heightened awareness that comes with immediate danger. Before I could coax myself to move forward, a familiar figure stepped into my path; the smaller of the two Ra'zac. Without even looking I knew the other would be at my back. We were out of the densest parts of town, but it was still brazen as all hell to approach me in public, with the added disadvantage of daylight. I conjured the stately airs of yesteryear and spat, "Stay back." They wouldn't be able to cause me immediate physical harm… but there were much worse things they could do or have done.

Their creepy, hissing laughter bounced from every direction. "We are not here to hinder you, Princccessss."

The voice behind me added, "We want to offer a trade."

I feigned disinterest, though I was desperately calculating how much of a gap I could create to escape them when they inevitably broke their truce and attacked. "Sure. And I'll believe you because…?"

"We know the location of the boy."

I scoffed. "If that were true, you'd be delivering him to the king by now."

"Hissss Majessssty isss coming to collect him persssonally," the Ra'zac in front of me cooed.

"A great honor for the lordling," the second concurred.

Lordling? Katana and I ran through their words three more times in the safety of our shared communication. "Wait… you mean to tell me that you've found Murtagh?"

"Yesss," They hissed as one; again that grating, mocking sound. Only the one behind me continued, "Rather, the king never losssst him at all; he only waited thissss long out of dissstraction."

Stuck between them, I was starting to feel the effect of their sickening breath. I managed to grind out between teeth clenched against nausea, "Tell me where he is, or I will—"

"No petty threatssss," The front Ra'zac snapped. "We offer a trade."

"A fair trade," its partner concurred.

"You will aid ussss, and we will, in turn, aid you."

"Give usss the location of our prey, agree to stand back while we acquire them, and leave thisss placcce,"

"Do all thissss, and we will provide you with the lordling'sss location before he isss recaptured."

My blood ran cold. They couldn't know it, but they'd just asked me to choose between Selena's two sons; the very sons I'd promised to protect. One would be placed in desperate danger, the other would be safe for a moment or two. At least Eragon has Brom with him. And besides, he came here for the express purpose of battling and slaying these creatures; Murtagh would be totally blindsided. I swallowed hard. Katana?

My partner, mostly silent for much of this exchange, was no less upset than I was. The best thing to do would be to kill one of the Ra'zac yourself and torture the information out of the other. She normally wasn't that bloodthirsty, but she very much viewed both Eragon and Murtagh as 'hatchlings.' And that wasn't even considering how much harm they'd caused me in the past.

The oaths; I cannot knowingly cause harm to Galbatorix's agents unless they attempt to harm me first.

Can we provoke them into attacking?

I love the gumption, but I don't think they'll willingly surrender their only protection so easily.

"However, should you refussse," the larger Ra'zac's voice was also ever so slightly more… slippery than scratchy compared to its fellow, especially as it slunk close enough for its foul breath to graze the back of my neck, "we will deliver your location directly to the king."

"He may even dissscipline the two traitorssss together assss he did oncccce before."

I curled a lip in barely banked fury. "You dare threaten me?"

"Only with your own folly." The Ra'zac behind me stepped around to stand by the smaller. "To be clear; we will sssstill capture the rider with or without you pressssent. The only differenccce is how much trouble it cossssts usss."

Its partner snicked its hidden beak in agreement. "We have little time; and even lesssss patiencccce. Anssswer now."

I twitched as if reaching for a weapon, but neither of the creatures paid the bluff any mind. That threat carries more weight than they know; even if I stay with Eragon I'll likely only be painting a target on his back if Galbatorix knows I'm here.

Then your choice is made?

I don't see this as a choice; I simply have no alternative at the moment. I thought I'd finally give into my gag reflex as the hateful words dripped from my tongue, but I managed them with some semblance of dignity. "Fine. Tell me where I can find Murtagh and I'll leave Dras Leona. I'm not sure where your prey is at the moment, but they are most definitely within the city proper— they're here to hunt you after all."

The duo seemed taken aback by this revelation. "Sssswear it."

I spit on the ground between us. "Nen ai Shur'tugal, you have my word that I will give you one free shot to capture your targets if and only if you reveal Murtagh's location to me. After that, our debt is paid in full."

They clicked amongst themselves for a moment. "Very well."

A few more grumbled oaths of abstention (from me and Katana, the bastards) and exchanged intel later, I was sprinting through the sidestreets to the nearest city gate.

-:- -:- -:-

The knowledge of what I was doing to the men behind me was torturous. But the thought of abandoning Murtagh— something I'd not only promised his mother but also him that I would never do— was infinitely worse. If I can make it there and back fast enough, I can claim their window has closed and still forewarn Brom. If I'd given myself more time and less panic I probably could have come up with a better solution, but regrets simply had to wait until after the mission was over.

The estate he'd chosen for his hiding place was clever in a similar way that my chosen roost near Teirm had been: so obvious that it was brilliant. If it weren't for the shortcoming of Murtagh's lacking magical defenses it may actually have safeguarded him for some time. The owner of the grounds spent most of his time at his townhouse in Uru'baen; his third son managed the household affairs, as the first was with him at court and the second was sickly. It was this second son that Murtagh had some acquaintance with; two young men who'd been ostracized by the only society available to them. However, he was anything but friendly to the rest of the family. The eldest ran with the same crowd that attacked him all those years ago, and the third was no less of a twat. Now that spring had truly sprung, said-twat had probably joined his father and brother at court for the flocking season.

It still seems foolish to be near any of the king's lackeys. My once-fearless partner had absorbed at least some of my paranoia over the years.

He's not as equipped to roam the countryside as we are; he probably would've bumbled into trouble. The simple fact of the matter was that Murtagh, for all his raw nerve and cleverness, hadn't properly roughed it for more than a few hours in his whole life. Our one ill-fated sprint into the desert was probably still the farthest he'd ever gone from civilization. It's an unforgiving world out in the wilderness. At least now I know he's warm and fed. Privately, I added in the back of my mind, and alive.

The estate came into view early in the evening, as it was only a short sprint from the city limits. It was a lovely old building, clearly made of locally sourced materials so that it grew harmoniously with its surroundings rather than standing in contrast. The yellowish blocks were accented romantically by the flickering firelight in its many (extravagantly expensive) windows.

I wasted not one movement, channeling my momentum to scale the garden wall. From my perch, I could make out the garish chartreuse plumes of two patrolling guardsmen, though neither was near enough to see me. I lowered myself into the yard and dropped into a low crouch behind a serpentine topiary. Katana, please search the upper level. I'll start from the grounds and we'll meet somewhere in the middle.

Consider it done. We both sank into militant concentration. It was risky to blanket an area mentally, but it would have been too time-consuming to do it any other way. I found him! Top floor, west side, on the balcony.

I sent one more flick of thought to track the two guards; neither was in my way. Finally, a bit of luck. I padded through the garden at a brisk trot, wary of the windows of the great house so no servant or visiting dignitary could catch sight of me. In moments, I had found decent enough hand-holds in a crawling vine. [Here I used another word of the ancient language I choose to omit. It is simple in execution, but miscasting can have… drastic consequences. In summary, I reduced the amount of effort it would take to pull myself up a vine without breaking it or me.] My target was still numb to his surroundings, draped over the railing and staring into the middle distance like a morose damsel.

I deposited myself on a curve in the railing, but Katana needled me before I could speak. Do you have the right to tease anyone?

Him; only and always. Besides, no one knows that pose better than I do. It was no mystery why he was so despondent; orphaned again, and this time from a father he'd grown to love. Keep an ear out, won't you?

Hurry.

I cleared my throat mildly. Just as I'd expect of Tornac's star pupil, he whipped around with a hand at his belt in moments. He blinked in amazement and stepped back until he bumped into the opposite side of the railing. "Lilly?"

"That name works I suppose." Much to my surprise, the young man took two massive steps and hugged me just as enthusiastically as he used to when he was a little kid. I draped arms around his back, if only to ease some of the pain I knew he was still tendering over all that had passed. After a moment he pulled away awkwardly, as if recalling what else had happened the last time we were face to face. I shook off the hiccup and rushed, "As happy as I am to see you, I can't stay."

His shoulders drooped. "But—"

"Galbatorix will visit Dras Leona in a matter of days, and he's coming for you."

Murtagh's face scrunched into a perplexed, agitated grimace. "How?"

I sighed and shrugged. "Did you find a magician to ward you against scrying?" His wince answered the question pretty concisely. "Well, no use regretting it now. Grab what you can and get lost; as far away from here as you can." I shoved a smoothed purplish-grey rock into his palm. "This won't protect you indefinitely, but it should at least get you to someone who can so long as you stay near plants and animals."

"How did you find—"

"It's a very long story, most of which will have to wait."

"Why didn't he—"

"He's probably been busy hunting the new rider." Raw astonishment overcame his face. I hastily added, "He hasn't succeeded yet, but it could happen any minute if I don't get out of here."

Murtagh breathed in as if he was about to speak again, then paused. When I didn't interrupt him this time, he continued, "Are you freed?"

"Not exactly, I just don't have any new orders to follow. Lucky for both of us that catching you wasn't one of my assignments." He nodded grimly. I clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Now, both of us need to leave. Hopefully…" it took a great force of will to swallow down the sudden choke in my throat, "We'll both be free of him someday."

I saw the glimmer of emotion in his shadowed eyes, but he slammed them closed before it could spill over. "If you ever think of some way that I can help you, promise that you'll tell me?"

"Of course."

By the time I returned to the city proper, there was pandemonium in the streets! Apparently, the boys' escape had been anything but stealthy; it was a minor miracle that no guardsmen were seriously hurt. Since I had neither reason to remain in the city nor a heading to track down Brom and Eragon, I picked a random direction and struck out into the hills.

A few days later I found Brom's tomb; a shining beacon of a great life ended.

I spent the better part of the morning there, partially to see if Eragon still lingered in the area and also to pay my respects. As often as the coot had caused me trouble, and as vicious as his barbs could be…. I'd truly grown to admire certain things about him. His tenacity was certainly unmatched! I got a real kick out of his epitaph as well, "Here lies Brom, who was a dragon rider, and like a father to me. May his name live on in glory." It seemed the old man was able to part with one of his secrets in the end, but not the other. No one will ever be able to truly say for certain why, on his death bed, he didn't confess his real relationship to his one and only son. . . but I believe I have enough information to at least postulate.

When I first hated Brom, it was in part because I thought he put himself on the same pedestal that many who followed him did. This couldn't be farther from the truth. He had a blistering standard of performance for his student, for his allies, and most of all for himself. He truly felt the weight and import of his station to his last moments— the last ember of a dying dynasty— and I don't think he was wholly satisfied with his conduct in that role. As proud as he obviously was of Eragon, (for all his accumulated skills and, more importantly, for his kindness and drive), there was also something of shame there too. Not in the boy himself… how to put this… I believe that Brom felt, to some extent, ashamed of his absence and failures. If he'd told Eragon the whole truth then he would have also had to confess his mother's fate, the reason for his distance, and the effect of it: Garrow's brutal demise. He preferred to let Eragon mourn his cherished mentor without also wrestling through all the spite and pain that a more substantial revelation would have caused.

Whether this was a wholly selfless concern for his son over his own legacy or shame of his myriad failures…. Only he could have said for sure. But I am inclined, surprisingly, to think the best of him. Stydja unin mor'ranr indeed; you crazy, wonderful, woeful, old bastard. I hope Selena was waiting for you on the other side.

But this would prove to be a longer day than I could have ever expected.

What in the fifty unnamed hells is that little shit doing here! I was practically shaking, from panic or agitation it was hard to say. There, perched just across from Eragon and Saphira, was… Murtagh, I'm going to strangle you!

That would make protecting him rather difficult.

Shut up! He has to know how much danger he's in just being near him, let alone helping him!

Why don't you ask Murtagh if he knows? Katana was, at least to some extent, amused by my strong emotional response.

You know what, I think I will. I took a quick survey of his new traveling companions. Eragon was curled up with Saphira's side at his back and the dragoness herself was snoozing soundly. I lifted a loose stone and tossed it directly at Murtagh's feet.

He was standing in a moment and squinting into the brush. I jerked my chin for him to follow and turned away, picking a path to a more private place. Moments later, he emerged into the narrow deer-trail at my side. He cast me a puzzled look and whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"That had better be rhetorical!" My voice was low and airy, but the implied frustration clearly came through to him. "A better question would be what are you doing here?"

"Helping Eragon." Murtagh shrugged self-consciously. "He was in bad shape when I found him, and I don't think he'll be safe on his own for some weeks yet.

"He has a dragon on his side! He needs help less than you do—"

"He has a handful of broken ribs." The posture and lifted chin of the young man before me reminded me so much of Selena it was almost comical. I could practically see her ghost over his shoulder; feet planted, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and ready to fight for the path she'd chosen (regardless of how foolhardy it was). "Should I just abandon the last free dragon rider to his death?"

I chewed my cheek. "Leave that to me, and you just worry about yourself."

"Not a chance. You're already worrying about me, so let me worry about him."

If I'd been even one fraction dragon I would have blown smoke. "Do you realize that all three of Torix's most wanted fugitives are currently in one single place?"

"Yes." He shrugged again, "I figured we'd be harder to pick off if we stayed together."

I scrubbed my face with my hands. Is he trying to give me a stroke? My heart can't take this kind of stress forever. I don't think I've felt this old since I found out Harold was a grandfather.

Weird; you've always seemed like a crotchety old biddy to me.

Her observation passed unchallenged, but I did pull away from our link minutely. "How much does Eragon know about you so far?"

"My name, the fact that I'm not fond of the Ra'zac, and anything else he's managed to observe."

At my questioning look, he briefly summarized the circumstances of their meeting. My jaw dropped open when he described the state in which he'd found them— bound little packages ready to be shipped off to Uru'baen. He didn't just save them; there's a good chance he saved all of Alagaesia.

A tad dramatic, no?

I don't think it is. If Torix gets a new dragon rider under his control while he's already primed to crush the Varden… it will be the true end to hope for anyone resisting his regime.

But Eragon is nowhere near ready to take him on!

Of course not; but those who desperately want someone to believe in don't need to know that. It was an unfortunate reality of Eragon's position; for the foreseeable future at least, it was likely to be that of a symbol and figurehead rather than one of autonomy or authority. Still, better than being a lunatic's errand boy.

You'd know.

I've been both, and I know which I prefer. I shook my head, clearing my mental palette to reassess everything I'd been told. "I still wish it hadn't been necessary, but I agree that it most certainly was. Thank you, Murtagh." I favored him with a smile. "Tornac would be very proud of you."

The side glance embarrassed eye roll, and bashful grin told me he was pleased with the compliments. "Stop that. I was only following those freaks for some payback in the first place."

"And to catch up on gossip about this mysterious new rider, yes? Never lie to me." I rested a fist against his shoulder and smirked up at him. He stood steady as I leaned into it. "So, you will travel with him?"

"Yes."

"Right… then nothing substantial has changed—"

"Brom is dead." Murtagh's face was inscrutable in the darkness, and his tone gave no added clues to how he viewed such an event.

"Yes, I found the tomb. It's lovely"

"The dragon— er, Saphira, did something that changed the rock to diamond." He took a deep, weighty breath. "Morzan's killer is dead."

"I can't imagine how you're feeling right now." I was torn between offering apologies and congratulations. While Morzan had been the world's second-worst father, his loss was also the inciting incident that brought Murtagh to Uru'baen; to Galbatorix (the first-worst, as it should happen). And he doesn't even know that it was because of Brom and Eragon that Selena gave her life.

She did not give it; she had it ripped away.

How very right you are. After a suitably dramatic pause, I continued, "In any case, I'll be following along at a distance. I want to be near in case you come across danger beyond what you can handle on your own."

"Why not travel at our side?"

In truth, I'd considered that very question myself many nights since we'd left Palancar Valley. "He doesn't know who I am and, frankly, he's been through enough these past few days. If I do end up back in Uru'baen, I don't want Galbatorix to glean anything useful." There was more to it, of course. For one, I had a sense of intruding on a very private and important journey shared between two brothers; separated souls whom fate had determined, against all odds, must meet. Then there was the weight of everything I needed to conceal… Maybe that's one of the things I disliked most about Brom; I recognized the mirror of my own cowardice and shame.

I think it's a positive sign: you esteem Murtagh so highly that deceiving him— even for his own good— pains you.

The man in question rolled his shoulders, clearly unsatisfied but equally unwilling to argue the point. "I still don't know where exactly he intends to go. What if he wants to make another attempt on the Ra'zac?"

Or, worse, what if he's on route to Tronjheim? I couldn't bother with the intricacies of that unhappy possibility just yet; it would take some serious consideration. "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. For now, head back to camp and try to get some rest. I'll keep watch."

"Thanks." I tried not to take too much joy from the ease that entered his otherwise defensive posture. "It's good to have you around again."

I was grateful to him for leaving sentimentality there rather than taking it further. I waved a hand passively and watched him meander back into the brush. This promise is going to be the death of me.

Probably. Far from disapproving, Katana seemed pleased both at my mental landscape and at finally being in the center of the action after so many years on the sidelines. Having second thoughts?

This question was the first in weeks that required absolutely no consideration. Never.

I need to say this at least once, though I'm sure the sentiment will creep back into the narrative sometime later: I leave them unattended for a day-and-a-half and they stick their heads into the nearest wasp nest! If Selena attracted trouble, her sons perfected the trick. Between Eragon and Murtagh, I must have lost at least a decade of my lifespan. An unexpected quirk of aging immunity: you can't have a stress heart attack from your accident-prone defacto wards!

All that said, I was absurdly proud of both of them. They survived an encounter, however brief, with two of the deadliest creatures on Earth. I regret not being there… but I don't think I would have decided differently, knowing all that was about to transpire. The loss of Brom was tragic, but I am glad to my bones that Murtagh got a chance to meet— and, in his own cautious way, love— his brother. Those two would have been drawn to each other no matter how they met… but it's for the best that it was not at Galbatorix's feet.

And, on that unhappy subject, we reach an ever-spiraling series of coincidences and curses that would spoil this new friendship almost as soon as it was made… and force me home once more.

AN: Surprise! I know a double-chapter drop is a poor apology for weeks of absence, but it's the best I can do.

Unfortunately, it may be another few weeks before I post again: I'm heading in for another minor surgery in a couple of days. I intend to spend at least part of that time re-listening to the audiobook chapters relevant to upcoming fic chapters and scouring them for details. (My obsession with accuracy is one of the things that's paralyzed me since reaching the canon timeline. Since I am not strong enough to ignore it, I have no choice but to indulge). Wish me luck. ;)

In the meantime, I hope this scratches as many itches for you all as it did for me. Let me know what we like, what we hate, what you had for lunch... literally anything! (I am going to have nothing to do for weeks TwT)

Peace and love, stay safe out there folks.